Small ripples

The human existence has been talked about and written about and debated since we could question life's meaning, it seems to me. The eternal "Why am I here?" and "What is my purpose" echo through each generation, as we struggle to matter. As we struggle to make a difference. As I’ve grown older, I have come to my own conclusions.

I am an explorer by nature. I see and experience what's happening in the now, and have always had a really difficult time making plans for the future. I can't imagine how to predict what's coming. I can imagine all sorts of things, of course. I can spin fantasies of events, but I don’t invest in them. I know them to be my own imaginings. I'm married to someone that imagines every possibility on the horizon, and shares those possibilities with me. It makes me nervous. Honestly! Does he want to change my mind? Influence my choices? Is he telling me my ideas aren’t worthy? No. I've learned that he's not giving me the answers, or trying to persuade me. He has to speak possibilities into life. He doesn’t visualize. His imagination has to express itself in spoken word.

I am an artist of theater and music, and a teacher of both. I never considered myself to be qualified to teach, but it fell into my lap, and I realized how much I love it. I enjoy offering love as the core of the lessons: Love of self, love of music or acting, love of discovery. I've never assumed that I could change someone's path. None of the "I'm going to make you a star" kind of thing. I've always wanted my students to enjoy the experience and find a new part of themselves. Watching them have an “aha!” moment is inspiring. It is one of the most uplifting things I’ve experienced in my lifetime, and I have begun to think that’s “Why we’re here.”

What’s my passion? Human kindness. Human interaction. Finding the puzzle piece that needs to be found, or fit into place, and helping someone explore until they find it. Even if it’s a tiny piece.

We live in a society that judges almost every part of our lives; How we look, how we speak, what language we speak, what clothes we wear, how much money we make, what color skin we inhabit, whether we’re too thin or too fat, too tall or too short, too old or too young. This behavior instantly limits our ability to learn about another being. We lose interest in their story before hearing it. I’ve come to treasure learning a person’s story. Everyone has one. Everyone. They can make you weep for their pain, or bend over laughing at their adventures. What a gift to receive. Perhaps I love hearing people’s stories because my art is about human stories. Standing on stage and sharing a story with an audience for an hour or two, and hoping to touch them, to transport them into another person’s life experience. That can be life changing, or a diversion from the stresses of daily life.

We are here so briefly. We spend so much of it trying to fit some mythological ideal. How silly I find that. I delight in being a small ripple in a giant ocean of life. If my tiny ripple makes a positive change in someone else’s life, I find that an extraordinary accomplishment.

I don’t know that anyone follows me for advice. I’m happy to give it if someone asks. I usually ask them to take some deep breaths if they’re spinning in the mind’s gerbil wheel of tasks. Breath. Yes. Do this exercise I learned from a therapist. What are 5 things you see? 5 things you hear? 5 things you feel? We count down to 1 of each. Usually our heart rates ease, our breathing softens, and we’re in the present moment. When we reach that point, we can listen to one another’s story. We can be a small ripple of love in this vast ocean of life.